


Sometimes I am the colour of air

by crookedspoon



Series: [std] Four Hundreds [17]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Beaches, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Making Out, POV Prokopenko, Prompt Fic, Questioning One's Existence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-14 02:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12997518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/crookedspoon
Summary: Tripping by the shoreline.





	Sometimes I am the colour of air

**Author's Note:**

  * For [galateaofthewestside](https://archiveofourown.org/users/galateaofthewestside/gifts).



> For the prompt #467 "Beach" at slashthedrabble and #3 "We living, or just existing?" from [this prompt list](https://crookedspoonfic.tumblr.com/post/165091689035/one-line-prompts) on tumblr.
> 
> Ignore me, I'm once again throwing words at my word processor to see what sticks.

Proko is a simple creature of simple wants. All he needs for a breath of happiness is the wind in his hair. A bottle of liquor. Some acid. 

And Kavinsky.

Always Kavinsky.

It should be embarrassing how his heart is hammering against his chest from such an innocent act as tangling his fingers together with Kavinsky's, but he feels no embarrassment like this, in the dark, away from prying eyes or wagging tongues. Walking hand in hand with Kavinsky along the waves that are lapping at their feet, sharing a bottle of whiskey like sweet, secret whispers as if they were real lovers.

He can't say why he doesn't think of them as 'real' lovers. Probably because he doesn't think of himself as real, more like a very sophisticated A.I. somehow made organic.

Kavinsky probably sees him that way as well: a breathing and bleeding test subject that serves no other purpose than to provide him with a responsive but unquestioning quasi-doll to practice on before he ultimately feels comfortable enough to head for realer shores.

It's moments like this, when he's tripping under the stars, that he has these weird flashes of lucidity.

When they're sitting by the shore with their feet digging into the wet sand, water filling up the holes in pulses, and Kavinsky trembles as he kisses him.

When the world feels vast and open – not scarily, but invitingly so – and Proko wonders what the fuck he's been doing with his life.

Kavinsky, meanwhile, has bowled him over, palms exploring his chest, hot breath steaming across his cheek. His presence alone is enough to make Proko's thoughts fizzle out.

He lets him tug his shirt over his head and falls back hard, peering past Kavinsky at the sky, overcome with the emptiness of space, his own insignificance, and whether any of it even matters when he feels this nice.

"We living, or just existing?" he wonders out loud.

"Dunno about you, man, but I'm feeling fucking _alive_ right now." Kavinsky laughs and kisses him again, trembles long since subsided.

Proko's hands shoot up to grip K's shoulders. Not to stop him or anything, but to... _feel_ him just being there, in his skin, warm and moving and alive, like the miracle it is. _He_ is.

"Fuck," Proko breathes and cups Kavinsky's head, lifting it as though trying to inspect it despite the darkness enveloping them. "You're beautiful."

Kavinsky huffs. "You can't even really see me, dumbass."

"I don't need my eyes to fucking _see_ you. I mean, really you."

Kavinsky is resting his head on his hand now, clearly indulging Proko. "And what is it you think you see?"

"God's touch." 

Kavinsky snickers. "Perv."

"Marking you as a favorite." Proko's thumb brushes Kavinsky's browline as if feeling for physical evidence of such a mark.

"Uh-huh. It's the devil's gift I have."

"That'd make me the devil's creation."

Kavinsky's teeth glint in the pale moonlight. "You are. You're by far the best thing I ever made."

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "I Find That I'm Not There" by Porcupine Tree.
> 
> Tumblr post for reblogging convenience can be found [here](https://crookedspoonfic.tumblr.com/post/168568379033/the-colour-of-air-trc-prokopinsky-t-500w). If there's any other pairings/tropes/kinks/ideas you wanna see, let me know! I'm also @crookedteaspoon on tumblr and twitter.


End file.
